The Domain hums differently when I'm building.
Not fighting.
Not calculating destruction.
Building.
Aurelian's data floats in layered projections around me—government supply chains, Apex deployment routes, executive redundancies, black-site schematics. Clean. Detailed. Useful.
They think in vertical power structures.
I think in collapse points.
If I ever take this nation—as I warned I would—it won't be through brute force.
It will be through inevitability.
But before inevitability—
Preparation.
"W.I.S.D.O.M."
[ONLINE.]
"I need a chamber capable of sustaining Saint-level output. Full-release tolerance. Multi-axis gravity stabilization. Energy rebound nullification."
A pause.
[RECOMMENDED MATERIAL: DOMAIN-FORGED IRON COMPOSITE.]
[INTEGRATING FOREIGN ENERGY RESISTANCE LATTICE.]
The space in front of me fractures open, reshaping under intent. Walls form—not concrete, not metal—but condensed conceptual iron. Structured with layered absorption arrays.
A room that won't break.
A room that will answer force with resistance.
"Test parameters?"
[SIMULATED SAINT OUTPUT: 130% BASELINE.]
"Raise it to 200%."
A beat.
[RISK: STRUCTURAL STRAIN.]
"I'm aware."
The lattice thickens.
Good.
If Stage Five ever opens, this room will need to survive me.
I extend my hand and construct more units beside it—Iron Sentinels.
Not basic ones.
These are reinforced.
Adaptive.
Each frame built with rotating gravity cores and counter-saint shielding.
They kneel as they activate.
I don't smile.
"Deploy four to Eli's rotation," I say.
[ACKNOWLEDGED.]
⸻
Elsewhere in the Domain—
Eli stands in the chamber, breathing hard.
Four Iron Sentinels surround him.
He grins.
"Four? That's disrespectful."
The floor shifts.
Gravity increases.
The Sentinels move.
Eli plants his foot—
And the entire room compresses under his will.
Gravity bends outward in a crushing wave.
Two Sentinels slam into the walls.
The other two adjust mid-air, stabilizers flaring.
Eli roars—not anger.
Resolve.
The heavier the pressure, the stronger he becomes.
A Sentinel strikes him from the side.
He catches it.
The floor fractures beneath his boots as he increases gravitational pull in one hand, multiplying the machine's effective weight until its own mass collapses its frame.
He throws it down.
Another Sentinel drops from above—
Eli doesn't dodge.
He steps forward.
Because his will spikes higher when cornered.
The gravity in the room warps violently.
The Sentinel freezes mid-lunge, crushed by invisible force.
Eli laughs, panting.
"Yeah. That's more like it."
His aura is thicker now. Denser.
He's not matching Apex yet.
But he's climbing.
And Eli only gets stronger when he decides he refuses to lose.
⸻
Across another sector of the Domain—
Seraphine stands across from Lina.
No machines.
No violence.
Just space.
"Truth isn't force," Seraphine says gently. "It's correction."
Lina frowns. "I don't feel anything when I try."
"That's because you're trying to produce something," Seraphine replies. "You don't produce Truth. You recognize it."
She gestures around them.
"This Domain exists because Neo asserts a reality."
She steps closer.
"But you don't assert. You refine."
Lina closes her eyes.
Seraphine continues softly, guiding her like a patient instructor.
"Find something that feels wrong. Not dangerous. Just… incorrect."
Silence.
Then—
Lina's brows knit slightly.
"There's a… distortion," she whispers.
Seraphine smiles.
"Good. Now don't overpower it."
Lina exhales.
"That's not true."
The distortion unravels.
Cleanly. Effortlessly.
No explosion. No flash.
Just removal.
Seraphine nods, impressed.
"You see?" she says. "You don't fight reality. You remove its lies."
Lina opens her eyes slowly.
"That felt… natural."
"Because it is."
Seraphine studies her carefully.
"You're not a weapon, Lina."
She smiles warmly.
"You're a compass."
⸻
Back in the central chamber, I observe both feeds.
Eli is bruised but grinning.
Lina is calmer. Clearer.
Seraphine… is better at this than I expected.
The Domain stabilizes around us.
Training room complete.
Sentinel production increasing.
Strategic models refining.
Apex are thinking.
Good.
So are we.
I close Aurelian's data projections with a flick of my hand.
The nation doesn't realize it yet.
But while they build their Apex—
I'm building something far more dangerous.
A team that isn't controlled by fear.
And when the time comes—
They won't be ready for what we've become.
⸻
There are levels to taking a nation.
The first is force.
The second is leverage.
The third is inevitability.
I'm already past the first two.
Aurelian's data allowed me to map infrastructure redundancies, military command hierarchies, Apex deployment routes, media manipulation centers, and executive override chains. I don't need to destroy the Axis State to take it.
I need to make resistance inefficient.
But the Apex changed the equation.
Six Saints-level entities. Foreign energy signatures. Loyal. Adaptive.
And I don't understand their source.
That's the problem.
Ignorance is the only thing I don't tolerate in warfare.
I expand projections inside my Domain. Tactical simulations flood the air around me.
Scenario 1: Direct confrontation.
Outcome: Victory possible. Collateral extreme. Civilian destabilization high.
Scenario 2: Strategic isolation. Divide Apex.
Outcome: Moderate success. Foreign energy variable unpredictable.
Scenario 3: Stage Five unlock.
Outcome: High success probability. Personality drift risk elevated.
I close that projection.
Not yet.
The foreign energy bothers me more than the Apex themselves.
It overrides W.I.S.D.O.M's tracking.
It resists analysis.
It doesn't behave like Saint energy.
Fighting something you don't understand is reckless.
Which leaves one option I don't particularly enjoy.
I lean back slowly.
Aurelian.
Aurelian
The Saint of Justice.
He has already seen the portal data. He knows more about inter-dimensional interference than anyone alive except me.
If I move against the Axis State fully, it won't remain internal.
It becomes geopolitical.
If Apex engage me publicly, it becomes war.
And if it becomes war—
I would rather not stand alone.
I exhale.
"Asking for help," I murmur.
W.I.S.D.O.M remains silent.
It knows what this costs me.
But strategy isn't about pride.
It's about survival.
And Justice may be the only Saint capable of counterbalancing whatever that foreign dimension truly is.
I don't like relying on variables outside my control.
But sometimes the smartest move isn't escalation.
It's alliance.
⸻
Meanwhile—
Lina is changing.
Not explosively.
Precisely.
Seraphine stands across from her inside the Domain's open training sector.
"Again," Seraphine says gently.
Lina nods.
A distortion field forms—an artificial reality rewrite simulation I constructed.
It attempts to alter an established fact inside the chamber:
The sky above is blue.
The simulation bends.
Recolors.
Attempts override.
Lina steps forward calmly.
"That's not true."
The distortion shatters.
Clean. Absolute.
Not force.
Authority.
Conceptual Truth Binding.
Once something is acknowledged as true by her—
It locks.
It cannot be rewritten.
It cannot be edited.
It cannot be retconned.
Time manipulation fractures against it.
Fate distortions collapse.
Even W.I.S.D.O.M cannot override her declarations once stabilized.
She's not just seeing lies anymore.
She's anchoring reality.
Seraphine watches her with visible pride.
"You're not just correcting things now," she says softly. "You're defining them."
Lina exhales slowly, sweat forming at her brow—but she's smiling.
"I can feel the resistance when something tries to twist," she says. "It's like… the world asking me if I agree."
"And?"
Lina's eyes sharpen slightly.
"I don't."
Across the chamber—
Eli claps his hands.
"Alright, philosopher. Martial break."
He tosses her a training staff.
Lina catches it.
Eli doesn't go easy.
He never does.
They circle.
Eli strikes first—heavy, grounded, reinforced with subtle gravitational pressure.
Lina blocks—but instead of overpowering him, she shifts.
Corrects his center of balance.
"Your stance is wrong," she says instinctively.
Eli stumbles as if reality agreed with her.
He laughs. "Okay, that's unfair."
They move faster.
Eli increases gravity locally, trying to slow her footwork.
Lina steps forward.
"That won't hold."
The gravitational field destabilizes.
Not erased.
Just… invalidated.
Eli's grin widens.
"You're getting scary."
She blushes slightly.
"I don't want to be scary."
Eli smirks. "Too late."
Above them, I observe silently.
Lina isn't just growing stronger.
She's growing confident.
Controlled.
And that may be more dangerous than raw power.
If Apex ever try rewriting public perception…
If they attempt narrative control…
If they try to manipulate causality—
Truth will break it.
I turn my gaze back to the projection of the Axis State.
If this escalates into war—
It won't just be Saint versus Apex.
It will be Ideology versus Control.
And if I'm going to move forward with taking this nation—
I need Justice beside me.
Stage Five can wait.
But alliances cannot.
The board is shifting.
And this time—
I'm not playing alone.
⸻
That evening, Dinner was calm.
Mother talked about something simple—groceries, a neighbor, normal things. Seraphine listened like she belonged there.
And that still surprises me.
Afterward, when the dishes were done and the house quieted, I stepped onto the balcony.
Seraphine followed a minute later.
"You've decided something," she said gently.
I leaned against the railing.
"I'm considering working with Aurelian," I said. "At least temporarily."
She didn't interrupt.
"The Apex complicate everything. The foreign energy complicates it more. If this turns into war, it won't stay contained within the Axis State."
"And you feel Aurelian would stabilize the scale," she said softly.
"Yes."
I exhaled.
"I want all of us to visit the Darkshore Union. Lina. Eli. You. I'll hear him out properly."
"you've finally decided?" she asked.
"yes, I have," I replied calmly. "I've noticed Aurelian doesn't operate that way he did in our past life, even if he does have some memories of it— If he wanted conflict, he would declare it."
She studied me for a long moment.
"You're choosing cooperation," she said.
"For now."
"And you're asking them first."
"Yes."
That's the part that matters.
I don't move pieces anymore without telling them.
Seraphine's smile widened—brighter than I expected.
"I'm proud of you," she said.
I blinked slightly. "For making a strategic alliance?"
"No," she said softly. "For not carrying it alone."
The wind shifted.
And for once—
The decision felt lighter.
⸻
The Next Day at the government base.
The shift was subtle.
But not subtle enough.
Inside a sealed chamber of the Apex complex, three figures stood around a holographic projection field.
Iris Vale was the first to notice.
She tilted her head slightly.
"There," she murmured.
The air shimmered faintly.
Across from her stood Rook Calder, arms crossed, impatience practically radiating off him.
"What?" he asked.
Iris expanded the projection. A resonance spike. Clean. Stabilized. Not artificial.
"Signature correction," she said. "It just anchored."
Rook frowned. "Anchor's not in this sector."
"This isn't Jonah," Iris replied calmly.
The third in the room, Maris Kade, extended her hand and traced the signature with precision.
Her ability laced through probability threads, narrowing source vectors.
Location.
Identity.
Her eyes sharpened.
"It's her," Maris said quietly.
"Neo's girl."
Rook's grin widened. "So we finally found the Saint of Truth."
Before either could continue— The door opened.
Elias Vorn stepped in.
He didn't ask what they were doing.
He already knew.
"Hold the report," Crown said evenly.
Silence filled the chamber.
Rook blinked once. "Excuse me?"
"Do not inform Blake," Crown continued. "Not yet."
Maris's eyes narrowed slightly. "You knew."
Crown didn't deny it.
Iris studied him carefully. "You were monitoring her independently."
"Yes."
"And you didn't inform command."
"No."
Rook's grin faded.
"Where exactly do you think you stand, Crown?"
Crown's gaze shifted to him calmly.
"Above premature escalation."
Rook stepped forward, cracking his neck slightly.
"You don't tell us what to do," he said. "You're not in charge."
Crown's voice remained level.
"I am asking for delay."
"You're ordering," Rook snapped.
Energy flared.
Rough. Dense. Violent.
Rook lunged.
The chamber trembled as he unleashed Saint-level force, kinetic pressure tearing through the air.
Crown didn't move.
Not until the last second.
Then—
Reality folded.
Not warped.
Folded.
Rook's momentum vanished mid-strike. His force redirected downward as if gravity had chosen a new master.
The floor cratered.
Rook slammed into it.
Hard.
Crown's hand rested lightly over him—not touching—but compressing.
The foreign energy inside Crown flared—not chaotic like Rook's—but structured.
Dominant.
Rook tried to rise.
The pressure doubled.
Tripled.
He snarled—but his limbs wouldn't obey.
Crown looked down at him.
"You mistake noise for strength," he said calmly.
With a subtle shift of his fingers, the energy inverted.
Rook was pinned completely.
Silence.
Maris and Iris didn't move.
They were calculating.
Crown released the pressure.
Rook remained on the floor, breathing hard.
Crown dusted off his sleeve as if nothing significant had happened.
Then he turned to Iris.
This time, his tone softened slightly.
"Hold the report," he said again. "On my behalf."
Iris held his gaze.
"You are close to something," she observed.
"Yes."
"And if Blake discovers you withheld this?"
"He won't," Crown replied evenly.
A pause.
Then:
"I am close to completing what I am doing."
Maris crossed her arms. "And what exactly is that?"
Crown didn't answer.
He simply walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he added—
"If you report this now, you trigger war prematurely."
He glanced back slightly.
"And none of you are ready for that."
Then he left.
The door sealed behind him.
Rook remained on the ground, staring at the ceiling, pride bruised more than his body.
Maris exhaled slowly.
Iris's voice was quiet.
"He's not aligned with Blake."
"No," Maris replied.
"He's aligned with outcome."
And for the first time—
The Apex began to realize that their strongest member might not be loyal to the structure that created them.
He might be loyal to something else entirely.
And that was far more dangerous.